Chase the Wind (Apache Runaway Book 2)

by Madeline Baker

  The hollow loomed ahead and Chase slowed his horse to a walk. It was then that he heard the sound of hoof beats coming up fast behind him.

  Fearful that his freedom was only an illusion, that a posse was already in pursuit, he glanced over his shoulder to see Beth riding toward him. Her long blonde hair had come loose from its knot and blew in the wind like a banner made of gold silk.

  She smiled brightly as she drew rein beside him. “That was wonderful!” she exclaimed.

  “Wonderful?” Chase shook his head.

  “Yes! I’ve never ridden at night before. Never ridden so fast.”

  She was beautiful. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her honey-colored skin glowed in the light of the full moon, her brown eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Go home, Beth.”

  She shook her head. “No. I want to go with you.”

  “It is not possible.”

  “Oh, but it is.” She patted the saddlebags tied behind the cantle of her saddle. “I’m all packed and ready to go.”

  “Foolish woman! I am not making this journey for pleasure.”

  “I know.” The smile faded from her lips though her gaze remained warm and vibrant as it met his. “But we can make it a wondrous adventure, Chase. It’s all in your attitude.”

  “Attitude?” Chase snorted softly. “I have been accused of shooting a white man and stealing a horse, and you think I should try and make a game of it? Go home, woman. Go back where you belong.”

  Beth lifted her chin defiantly. “If you want me to go back, then you’ll have to take me.”

  “You know I cannot do that.”

  She tried to hide her triumphant smile, and failed miserably. “I know, so we should get going.”

  What was he to do with her? Dismounting, he led the roan into the hollow. The packhorse and supplies were waiting, just as Ryder had promised.

  He checked the rigging, using the time to try to sort out his chaotic thoughts. He couldn’t send her back to town alone, in the middle of the night, nor did he dare take her back. What to do?

  He was aware of her standing behind him even before she spoke. “We should be going.”

  He whirled around and grabbed her by the arms, holding her in a grip like iron. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  “Because I want to go with you.”

  “Why? You do not know me. I do not know you.” But even as he uttered the words, he remembered the first moment he had seen her, remembered thinking that he knew her, that in some part of his soul he had always known her. But such a thing was impossible.

  Confused, he stared down at her, felt himself drowning in the depths of her eyes.

  “Beth.” His voice was thick, ragged with an emotion he didn’t understand.

  “Take me with you, Chase. Please.”

  He shook his head. He was in enough trouble. No one would ever believe she had gone with him willingly. No matter how tempting it might be to have her along, in the end, she would only slow him down, cause him trouble.

  Her gaze was fixed on his, her big brown eyes silently begging him to take her with him.

  “I can’t,” he said hoarsely, and even as the words passed his lips, he was lifting her onto the back of her horse.

  His hands lingered at her waist, and he felt the heat flowing from her body to his, felt an unmistakable stab of desire as she smiled down at him. It was that smile that was his undoing.

  Turning away, he swung into the saddle and took up the reins of the packhorse. He sat there for a moment, beset by doubts, and then he clucked to the horse.

  Taking her with him was wrong, and he knew it. But in all his life, he’d never had anything he wanted. And he wanted this white woman, wanted Beth, as he’d wanted nothing else.

  He glanced over his shoulder once to make sure she followed, and then he rode out of the hollow.

  Chapter Nine

  Dusty groaned softly as he opened his eyes. His mouth felt thick, his head fuzzy, as though he’d spent the night drinking.

  Sitting back, he cradled his head in his hands. What the hell had happened?

  A glance at the clock put the time at just after 5:00 a.m. He swore under his breath as he stood up. Damn! Chase should have been long gone by now.

  Taking up the keys to the cells, he climbed the stairs.

  For a moment, he stood there, staring at the open door, the empty cell. Chase was gone, all right. But how the hell had he gotten away?

  Brow furrowed in thought, he went downstairs to check the alley. His roan was gone. Hunkering down on his heels, he examined the ground. Two sets of tracks. The prints of the lead horse belonged to his roan.

  With a sigh, Dusty stood up. He recognized the second set of tracks, too. They belonged to Beth’s sorrel mare.

  He stared at the hoof prints, his thoughts turned inward. Where had she met Chase, and why had she gone with him?

  Muttering an oath, he walked down the street to Ruddman’s Livery. Old Man Ruddman wasn’t happy about turning out one of his horses at 6:00 a.m.

  “Gonna cost you extra,” he grumbled as he saddled a raw-boned gray gelding.

  “Bill the town for it,” Dusty retorted irritably, and taking up the reins, he rode out of town.

  * * * * *

  “But, how?” Jenny asked, frowning. “How did he get away if you didn’t turn him loose?”

  Dusty sat back in his chair and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Ryder sat forward, his elbows braced on the kitchen table. “You say the keys were in your desk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And no came to see you besides Elizabeth?”

  “That’s right.” Dusty looked at his father. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything.”

  “You think Beth let him go? Why would she do that? They didn’t even…”

  “Didn’t even what?” Jenny asked.

  “Nothing.” Dusty stared into the depths of his cup, remembering Beth’s interest when he’d mentioned there was an Indian in jail.

  “Son?”

  “Nothing,” Dusty said. “I’m gonna ride out and see if the packhorse is gone. Can I take one of your horses? I had to rent one from Ruddman. I think he gave me the worst of the lot. Horse’s got a mouth like iron.”

  “Sure. Take the chestnut.”

  “Thanks.” Pushing away from the table, he grabbed his hat and left the house.

  “What do you make of all that talk about Beth?” Jenny asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ryder replied. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  * * * * *

  Instead of riding for the hollow, Dusty rode back to town to return the gray to Ruddman and see if Beth had returned.

  He was riding away from Ruddman’s when he heard a voice calling his name. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ralph Johnson riding toward him.

  “Sheriff! Sheriff! She’s gone! Beth’s gone.” Ralph reined his horse to a dirt-scattering halt in front of the boardwalk. “Is she here? Is Beth here?”

  “I haven’t seen her, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry.”

  Ralph Johnson slumped forward in the saddle, his face gray.

  “Where could she be?”

  “I don’t know. Did she leave a note, anything?”

  “No.” Ralph Johnson’s head jerked up. “She said she was bringing you something to eat last night.”

  Dusty nodded. “She came by about eight, but she didn’t stay long.”

  Johnson frowned. “She didn’t come back later?”

  “No.”

  “She went up to bed about nine-thirty. That was the last I saw her.”

  Dusty rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you or Mrs. Johnson keep any kind of sleeping powders in the house?”

  “Mrs. Johnson takes them sometimes. She gets headaches. Doc gave her something to help her sleep.”

  “Go on home, Mr. Johnson. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you
, Sheriff.” With a sigh, Johnson reined his horse toward home.

  Dusty stared after him. He didn’t like what he was thinking, but it was the only thing that made sense. Beth had drugged him, then turned Chase loose. But why? And where was she now? He didn’t like the answer than came readily to mind.

  Swearing softly, he urged the chestnut into a lope and headed out of town.

  The hollow was empty. Dismounting, he checked the ground. The sign was plentiful and easy to read. Moccasin prints. Smaller prints that he knew belonged to Beth. The hoof prints of his roan and Beth’s sorrel. A third set of tracks that belonged to the packhorse.

  His brother was gone, and Beth had gone with him.

  There was a crowd gathered in the street in front of the jail when he returned to town. A check of his pocket watch showed the hour to be a few minutes shy of ten.

  Dusty swore softly. Looked like the whole town had turned out for the hanging.

  Settling his hat on his head, he swung out of the saddle.

  The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea.

  “What’s going on, Sheriff?”

  “Where’s the prisoner?”

  “…cell’s empty. What happened?”

  Dusty tuned out the questions as he climbed the stairs. He turned to face the crowd, lifting one hand to silence the noisy throng. “The prisoner escaped last night,” he said, speaking loudly. “That’s all I know.”

  “Escaped? How?”

  “I don’t know,” Dusty said. “I fell asleep at my desk, and when I woke up, he was gone.”

  He held his ground, face impassive, as a flood of angry questions and accusations were hurled at him.

  “I don’t know,” Dusty repeated, his voice taut with the strain. “When I find the answers, I’ll let you know. For now, I want you all to go home.”

  Most of the crowd complied, but a half dozen men remained, muttering under their breath about getting up a posse and seeing that justice was done.

  “If I need help tracking him down, I’ll ask for it,” Dusty said.

  “Could be we need a new sheriff,” one of the men remarked.

  “One who can stay awake nights.”

  Dusty stood firm, his hand resting on his gun butt, as the men began making thinly veiled threats.

  “You heard what he said. Now, all of you, go home where you belong.”

  Dusty glanced over the heads of the crowd. His father, mounted on a big black stallion, rode toward him, a rifle negligently cradled in the crook of his left arm. Ryder Fallon knew his way around a rifle, and every man in town knew it.

  “Go on,” Fallon said, reining his horse to a halt at the rear of the dissenters. “Git!”

  The men glanced at Dusty, glanced at Ryder, and then, apparently deciding they were badly outnumbered, they shuffled down the street toward the saloon.

  “So,” Ryder said, dismounting, “any idea what happened?”

  “She drugged me.” Dusty felt the back of his neck grow hot. “She drugged me and turned him loose.”

  “She?”

  “Beth.”

  Ryder frowned. “Beth? Are you sure?”

  Dusty nodded. “She’s missing, too. Her old man came by earlier this morning, looking for her. She must have taken some of her mother’s sleeping powders and put them in my coffee, then came back later, after I’d passed out, and turned him loose.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she do such a thing?”

  “How the hell do I know? Dammit, I thought she loved me.”

  “Hey, take it easy.”

  “How can I? Dammit, she betrayed me.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Ryder suggested, conscious of passersby.

  “Yeah.” Unlocking the door, Dusty entered the office. Removing his hat, he tossed it on the desk, ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like a damn fool.”

  Ryder closed the door, then leaned against it, his ankles crossed, his arms folded over his chest. “I don’t understand. When could they have met?”

  “I don’t know.” Dusty dropped into the chair behind his desk.

  “So, what are you gonna do now?”

  “I don’t know.” He bit off each word.

  “You can always go after them.”

  “Not me. I courted her for five months. I thought I knew her. I thought she loved me. I guess I was wrong on both counts. Well,” he said, slapping his hands on the desktop, “I’ve got work to do.”

  Ryder nodded. “Guess I’d better go. I’ve got some work to do myself.” He pushed away from the door. “Your mother’s expecting you for dinner tonight. Don’t forget.”

  “I’ll be there.” Dusty looked up. “Thanks for your help out there.”

  “You didn’t need it,” Ryder replied, “but when your mother asks, I want to be able to say I would have been there if you got in a tight. See you tonight, Son.”

  Dusty nodded. He stared out the window for a long time, but it was Beth he saw. Beth smiling at his brother.

  * * * * *

  It was after four when Dusty left the office. Lost in thought, he walked down the boardwalk, hardly aware of the people he passed, the thought of Beth and Chase burning like acid in his gut.

  He didn’t see Rebecca Winterburn until he’d practically knocked her off her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing her arm to keep her from tumbling down the stairs. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Rebecca straightened her hat, then smiled up at the man standing in front of her. “How have you been, Dusty? I haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “Fine, fine,” he replied absently. “And you?”

  “Fine. I heard about your trouble at the jail. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not the first time a prisoner has escaped from jail. I don’t reckon it will be the last.”

  “I guess that’s true. I had a letter from Dorinda today.”

  “Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

  “She said she’s having a wonderful time, shopping and touring all the museums. I wish I could have gone with her. She said she’s met a lot of nice people, but she misses everyone here.”

  “Yeah, well, I know my mother sure misses her.” Dusty smiled at Rebecca. She was a pretty woman in a soft, understated sort of way. Her hair was dark brown, kind of curly; her eyes were the soft gray of a dove’s wing.

  “How are things going at school?” he asked. She’d been teaching for a little over a year.

  “Same as always. Brad Simms spends every recess clapping erasers. That boy will never learn!” She laughed softly. “How are your folks?”

  Dusty shrugged. “Same as always.”

  Rebecca clasped her hands, her gaze sliding away from his. She’d been in love with Dusty Fallon ever since he asked her to dance at the Christmas party last year. She had hoped he’d come courting, but he hadn’t. Oh, he smiled at her at church, and he had occasionally accepted her invitation to lunch, but then he’d started courting Elizabeth Johnson.

  “Well,” Dusty said, “I guess I’d better go. My folks are expecting me for dinner.”

  “Say hello to your mother for me.”

  “I will. See ya.”

  “See ya.” Rebecca stared after him as he walked away, wishing she was prettier, wishing she had the gumption to make her feelings known.

  Perhaps someday, she mused, when he was over Beth.

  * * * * *

  Chase and Beth rode all that day and the next, stopping only at midday to eat and rest the horses, and the again to bed down.

  Beth, accustomed to riding no more than an hour or two at a time, thought they’d never stop for the night. Time and again she was tempted to complain, to tell him she couldn’t go any farther, but each time she bit back the words. He hadn’t asked her to come along, she reminded herself. If her back was sore and her body dead from the waist down, it was no one’s fault but her own. Besides, if he could ride for miles and miles with a bullet wound in his side and not complain, she could sur
ely endure a little minor discomfort.

  She fastened her gaze on Chase’s back, distracting herself by watching the way the breeze ruffled his long black hair, admiring the way he sat in the saddle, the spread of his shoulders. When he glanced back to check on her, she felt the touch of his eyes clear to her soul. What was there about him that touched her so, that made her feel as though she had known him all her life? It made no sense, no sense at all.

  Until a few days ago, she hadn’t even known Chase the Wind existed.

  Until a few days ago, she had thought herself in love with Dusty, and then she had seen Chase’s reflection in the river and she had known, known in the very depths of her heart and soul, that he was the reason for her existence.

  A faint smile tugged at her lips. She had never realized what a romantic she was until now, she thought, bemused. Never believed in love at first sight. But she’d known Chase was the man for her from the moment she’d first seen him.

  Her gaze ran over Chase again. Did he feel the same way about her, or had he merely let her tag along because she hadn’t given him any other choice?

  As the sun began to sink below the horizon, she was beset by doubts. The landscape, which had seemed beautiful in the sunlight, suddenly seemed ominous. Her parents would be worried sick by now. No doubt Dusty had come to the conclusion that she had drugged his coffee.

  Running away with Chase, which she had viewed as an adventure in the full light of day, no longer seemed as romantic as it once had.

  It was near dark when Chase drew rein in a shallow draw that would protect them from the wind as well as conceal their presence.

  Dismounting, he glanced up at Beth, felt the instant attraction that hummed between them whenever their eyes met. And yet, mixed with the stirrings of desire came the realization that he should not be with her. She was a white woman, and he was an Indian. On the reservation, he had been told, time and again, that her kind was forbidden to him, that he was not good enough for a white woman.

  He shook the thought from his mind. A sharp pain knifed through his left side as he reached up to lift her from the saddle, but the pain was forgotten the minute his hands closed around her waist. Her hands were warm on his shoulders, her body brushed against his as he lifted her from the saddle. Even when her feet were on the ground, he continued to hold her. The top of her head just reached his shoulder. He stared down at her, unable to look away, unwilling to let her go.